Positioned in the world.
Obsessed with the dangerous
Laid beneath the laziness
Hanging from the precipice
But not stress
For that builds my foundations.
I am the maker
Of my own damned mess.
Deeply voiced hipsters
Sip on their overpriced mixers
Whilst bathed in the dimmed lights
On these overlong and lonely nights.
They play percussion with their pens
Assaulting spirits with their friends.
Hate seems to run through my blood